Trench Coats and Classic Cars: A Destiel Fic
by NexusOfTheKeys
Summary: Dean and Castiel have been dancing around each other for years. But with Metatron usurping Heaven and a forgotten player re-entering the game, will the two finally work their feelings for each other out? Or just end up pushing each other away? NO OCs in this story. Set at the middle of Season 9, slight AU. Read and review please!
1. I Look NOTHING Like A Moose

(A/N) Hey guys! Nexus, blathering on before the start of a fic, as usual. I finished season nine the other day, and needless to say I am quite "feely" right now. Since I am a hardcore Destiel shipper, and I want more SPN, I have decided to try my hand at writing a fic for it. This is the very first SPN fic that I have ever written, so I would take any and all available feedback, good or bad as long as it is constructive :3 Thanks for letting me drabble for a minute. Anyway, this fic will be some major Destiel (obviously), a decent amount of humor and a hella amount of drama. I have talked for far too long. Let's get this shitstorm going!

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Trench Coats and Classic Cars: A Destiel Fic

Chapter 1: I Look NOTHING Like A Moose

"Seriously, though, I don't see it. Granted, I'm tall, but lots of people are tall! What make me a freaking moose?" Sam Winchester sighed, running his hands through his mane of brown hair as he leaned up against his brother's black Impala. Catching his reflection in the car's right side mirror, he brushed his long bangs out of his eyes. "Maybe it's the hair.."

"C'mon, Sammy," a guttural baritone rumbled from under the open hood of the car. "You and I both know that you can't take Crowley seriously. He just says the crap that he does the mess with our heads." Seemingly satisfied with his work, Dean slammed the hood of the Impala and regarded his brother with a slight smile of his lightly-stubbled face. "Although, now that you mention it, there is a certain resemblance... I think it's the sideburns." Sam got a miffed look on his face as the teasing insult processed, which only amused his older brother. Dean smirked for a moment, then was forced to duck as his brother threw an oily cloth at his head. "Shut up, Dean," Sam groaned halfheartedly, holding his forehead in his hands.

Dean's expression instantly changed from teasing to concerned as he walked around the car to his brother's side. "Hey, you okay, man? That rugaru got you pretty good back there." Their previous mission had, indeed, been a relative challenge for the two brothers. The Alpha rugaru had apparently escaped Crowley's prison before it's obliteration and was making trouble in Kansas City; it had opened a diner and put it's blood in the ground hamburger meat in an effort to transfer the rugaru gene. Luckily for the residents of Kansas City, Crowley had found out about it's scheme and alerted the Winchesters, who had managed to kill the Alpha and burn the rest of the newly-made monsters. Unfortunately, during the fight, a lucky rugaru managed to jump Sam and made him lose his balance, causing him to crack his head against a table. Dean and Crowley had been there to ensure the offending monster was incinerated, but it still gave Sam a killer migraine.

Sam straightened up, squinting and waving his concerned brother off. "Nah, man, I'm ok, just a headache. Seriously, I'm fine!" Sam gave his protective older brother a nod and reassuring smile before collapsing, almost hitting the floor before being caught by Dean. The last thing he sees before passing out is his brother's concerned face.

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"Help me, Sam Winchester." The words seem to resonate slightly in Sam's head, like a cracked bell in a cave. Groaning slightly, Sam opened his eyes to find that he was floating in a vast black expanse, empty of all detail except the silver dots that dot it like fireflies. It was cold in the expanse, but not unbearably so, just enough to make Sam slightly uncomfortable. Sam looked down at his body and was shocked to find that it was opaque, almost like a hologram. Looking around again, Sam summoned up his courage and shouted into the darkness.

"Where am I, why have you brought me here?!" At first, it seemed like nothing had heard or cared about what Sam had yelled, but after a moment Sam developed a strange sensation, almost like he was being watched. Moistening his lips, he tried again. "Who are you, what do you want?" At this the silver fireflies started to move, slowly at first but gradually speeding up until they were a bright metallic whirl, shining bright enough to make Sam cover his eyes. When the light had died down a bit, Sam slowly opened his eyes to find a floating silver head. The face looked like it belonged to a young teenager, maybe a fourteen or fifteen year old. Sam felt like he should recognize the face before him, and was racking his brains for any recollection of it when it spoke, it's voice echoing throughout the expanse.

"Help me, Sam. I don't have much time, and you are the only one I can trust. I need you and Dean to rescue me, before it's too late. Please, help me!" The head began to break up like a sand castle being reached by the tide, turning back into the silver fireflies. Normally, Sam would be incredibly suspicious of any experience like this, but he felt some type of connection to the dissolving figure in front of him, like he knew that he could trust it. "Wait! Don't go yet! Who are you, how can I help you? What am I supposed to do?!" The head has mostly gone by now, leaving only the face behind in the swirling vortex of fireflies. "Help me, Sam Winchester. You are my last chance. Ask Crowley for his help, the Cambion-" the head was suddenly gone, leaving behind only the silver fireflies. Desperate for answers, Sam reached out and tried to catch one, but the moment his hand touched it, it began to hum loudly, starting as a low throb but quickly reaching subsonic pitches. He felt like the noise itself would be enough to split his very skull open, ringing in his ears like the voices of one thousand angels. The unbearable symphony grew to a fever pitch and reality seemed to splinter; with a flash of light it was gone.

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Ok, that is the first chapter out of the way! Needless to say I have set myself up for at least a halfway interesting story; what I want is your feedback. So, to hopefully stimulate your review submission, I am gonna make you guys a promise. I will update every week on Sunday, but for every review I recieve (good or bad) I will knock a day off of the current time limit I have to post the next chapter. You guys get more story, I get more feedback, everybody wins! So please, I beg of you, R&R!

~Nexus


	2. Guardian Angel

(A/N): Hey guys, Nexus here! Not a whole hell of a lot to say right now, However, my traffic graph shows that I have 40 hits of the story so far and only one review; worse, the one review is from a person I know IRL! Come on, guys, I'm begging you here. As I writer, I live off of reviews, and right now I HAVE ONE STALE CRACKER FOR FOOD AND THAT IS NO WAY FOR ME TO LIVE AND- *takes deep breath* Ok, ok, I'm cool, I'm cool... Ahem. Seriously, though, reviews are manna from heaven. More reviews= Happy Nexus= quicker updates. Can't argue with math. Anyway, here is Chapter 2!

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Chapter Two

Guardian Angel

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Dean sat on the edge of his brother's bed, gazing worriedly at the two figures before him. He had known that Sam had gotten his head knocked pretty hard, but he did't think it was bad enough to make him pass out. Sam had seemed fine on the drive back from Kansas City; maybe a little more woozy than usual, but nothing to worry about. All that had changed when Sam had suddenly dropped. Dean had been trained in basic first aid for a good portion of his life, and he know that delayed unconsciousness was never a good thing. It could mean a swelling brain, which usually led to brain damage. Being the overprotective big brother that he was, Dean immediately assumed the worst and called in the big guns: namely, he prayed to Cas.

Dean had felt kind of bad about immediately calling Cas in; ever since he had gotten his angel juju back (and subsequently kicked Gadreel out of Sam) he had been working toward getting Metatron out of Heaven. Dean knew that there wasn't anything more important than putting that dick-headed bookworm back in his place, but dammit, this was Sam we were talking about! Apparently Cas seemed to feel the same way. Dean had barely finished explaining when he heard the telltale sound of snapping fabric behind him, and turned to see an concerned-looking angel in a trench coat behind him.

The second Cas saw Sam, his eyes widened. After a quick greeting to Dean, he brushed past and smoothed Sam's hair out of his face, a look of intense worry upon his face.

"What happened to him, Dean?" Cas's low voice was interwoven with tones of urgency and fear, which did nothing to assuage Dean's fears.

"Uh, we were trying to gank the Alpha rugaru and Sammy got jumped. I was flaming two other ruguarus at the time, but I did hear it happen, and from the noise his head made when it hit the floor, he went down hard. How is he?" Cas ignored Dean's worried question and looked up, locking his intense blue eyes to Dean's forest green.

"It was only fighting rugarus? That was all you were doing before this happened?" The question caught Dean off guard.

"Yeah, other than that we just drove back here..." Cas grunted and turned back to Sam's unconscious form, an expression of concern etched on his lightly-stubbled face. Dean was starting to get annoyed with the angel. He leaned in, grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around, bringing the two to face each other, their faces only inches apart. Dean felt a familiar tingle in his stomach at Cas's close proximity, but he pushed it down; now was not the time. "Cas," he growled, "what is wrong with my brother?"

Cas held Dean's glare for a moment before turning away. "I've never seen anything like this before... Physically, Sam is fine. He did experience some blunt trauma to his head, but nothing that would cause him to fall unconscious. What caused him to pass out was something that I didn't think was possible..." Dean resisted the urge to shout at the lack of information that he was getting. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to calm down.

"Cas, just tell me what the hell is wrong with my little brother!" Cas sighed, mentally preparing himself to answer Dean's question. "I didn't think that this was possible until now, but someone has managed to astrally project themselves into Sam's unconscious mindscape. The extra presence in his mind was enough to cause him to black out when the stress on his psyche became too much to handle." Dean stood with his mouth open for a moment, processing the information that he had just gotten. "You mean to tell me that someone is trying to remote-possess Sammy, and that made him pass out?! What the hell, Cas?! I thought these tattoos were supposed to keep that from happening!" Dean pulled down the collar of his shirt, displaying the pentagram inked just under his collarbone. Cas's eyes lingered on the tattoo for a minute before darting back upward to Dean's face.

"That is exactly what they are for, and they are doing an admirable job. However, your brother is not being possessed."

"THEN WHAT THE FU-" Castiel cut the hunter off mid-explosion. "The extra presence in Sam's mind is not seeking control, only connection. From what I can gather, Sam and the extra are communicating. This is not a possession, it's a lot more like a phone call." Dean managed to calm down a bit more at this explanation; his brother wasn't in danger. "well, what does this extra-" he made air quotes "- want with my brother? Who the hell is he?"

Cas sighed, rubbing his chin with his hand. "I tried to trace the astral trail the the extra left, but it proved to faint. I have no idea who did this, except for the fact that the presence is not malignant. As to what it wants, Sam will have to tell us when he wakes up." These words had no sooner crossed Cas's lips than Sam uttered a low groan and sat up in bed, squinting against the light. Dean was immediately at his brother's side.

"Sammy! You ok, man? You scared the crap outta me for a second there. What happened?" Sam looked up at his brother's worried yet relieved face, an expression of confusion crossing his own. "I'm not really sure... There were these fireflies, and a floating silver head... Someone wanted my help.. Does this make any sense?" Sam switched his confused stare from his equally-confused brother to Cas, whose brow was wrinkled in deep thought. "...Cas?"

Cas's eyes darted back and forth, showing how hard he was thinking. "It would have taken someone with an extraordinary amount of power to contact you like this, more than the average angel possesses. That leaves Knights of Hell and Archangels, but the presence meant no harm, it was actually benevolent... This doesn't make any sense." Cas looked up and addressed Sam directly. "Sam, can you remember anything else, anything at all?"

Sam shut his eyes, trying desperately to remember what had happened. "Not really, it's all pretty vague... I think the head was teenage, maybe 14 or 15.. That is about it.." Cas looked disappointed and even more confused at this. "WEll, that is still more information than I had before. I just don't see-"

"Wait, there is something," Sam interrupted. "I remember the head saying something about Crowley-" Dean snorted loudly, interrupting his younger brother. "Crowley. I should have known that smart-ass bastard was behind this! I think we need to go have a chat with-"

"You didn't let me finish, Dean," Sam said, a trifle annoyed at his older brother for interrupting him. "We need to ask Crowley something, something about a cambion, whatever that is." Dean lfrowned, trying to remember what a cambion was. He was sure that they had ganked one at one point or another; they had ganked at least one of damn near everything at some point, but for the life of him he could not remember dealing with a- what was it, candy-on? "Huh. The name rings a bell, but I can't think of where I've heard of it before. What about you, Cas...?" Dean trailed off as he turned to the trench-coated angel. There was something wrong.

Cas's normally calm but intense face had gone white as his shirt, and his dark blue eyes were wide with fear. It seemed like he had unconsciously unsheathed his seraph blade and was holding it with a slightly shaky white-knuckled grip. Dean felt worry for his friend blossom in his chest. "Cas? What's wrong? Do you know what a cambion is?"

Cas's eyes darted back and forth as he nervously licked his lips. " I have to go..." And with the sound of a flag in the wind, he was gone

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(A/N) Dun dun duuuuuunnn! Well, there is chapter two written and published for you guys! I'd love to know what you are thinking about the story so far, and where you think it is going. Feel free to (read: IM BEGGING YOU TO) message me or review your opinions! Same deal holds, for every review I get from different people, I knock off a day before I publish next. Thanks!

~Nexus


	3. The King of Hell

(A/N): OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD! I JUST CHECKED THE TRAFFIC GRAPH FOR TCCC AND AS OF WEDNESDAY OVER 100 PEOPLE HAD LOOKED AT IT! I know it seems kinda like I'm over-reacting, but this is a huge deal for me! People like my stories apparantly and I have been grinning nonstop for like the past 15 minutes now! Thanks to everyone who reads, and a special tribute to all who review!

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Chapter Three

The King of Hell

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Dean blinked at Cas's sudden disappearance. He didn't understand why Cas reacted the way he had; it was almost as though he was scared of whatever a cambion was. Whatever the mystery monster was, though, it must be bad. Cas was normally the bravest being Dean had ever met, to the point of almost being reckless in his courage. Dean had seen him face down demons, archangels, reapers, and even Leviathans without a bat of an eye- it was one of the many things that Dean admired about his best friend. He actually thought that Cas was unable to feel fear, as part of his "angelic coding" or something, but the way the angel had just reacted to merely a mention of a cambion proved Dean wrong.

Sam spoke up, voicing what they were both thinking. "Well, that was weird." Dean moved up on the bed to sit next to his younger brother, leaning against the headboard. "Tell me about it. I've never seen Cas like that before. I mean, sure, he's always been pretty high-strung, but that was a new level of weird, even for him." Sam looked up at his brother, a small grin playing across his face. "I bet you know exactly how weird he is, too," he said, the smirk evident in his voice. Dean, however, apparently didn't pick up on the teasing tone in his younger brother's voice.

"Well, yeah, I guess. I mean, I do spend the most time with him out of the two of us, and he is pretty awkward in social situations and stuff." Sam's grin grew wider. "What do you mean, social situations?" Sam said, trying to goad his brother on, an audible quiver of restrained laughter in his voice- which Dean continued to miss. Lacing his arms behind his head, Dean continued. "Like, when we go to fast food joint or a drive thru or something, he acts kind of, I don't know, uncomfortable. He pretty much just sticks close to me. Dude really needs to work on his personal space. Like, last night he poofed in my bedroom like he does to check on me, and I was, uh, busy-"

"Busy?" Sam smirked, chuckling quietly. "Care to elaborate a little bit? I'm not sure what you mean..." Dean shot Sam a dirty look and mumbled something under his breath about men having needs, blushing a little. "Anyway, the guy just kinda stands there and asks me what I'm doing, and if I'm in pain. Then he said that he was gonna get me medical supplies, so-"

Dean was cut off by his brother's burst of laughter. Sam held his belly, laughing big belly laughs until he ran out of air. He had tried to hold it in, but the mental picture that Dean painted was just too perfect. In his head, Sam saw a mortified Dean covering himself with both hands, blushing madly as the oblivious angel tried to understand what was going on and why Dean was in "pain".

Dean looked down at his guffawing brother, his eyes narrowed slightly as he watched Sam gasp for air. He had found it quite easy to be angry at the time, but looking back it really was pretty funny. The corner of his mouth twitched once or twice until he gave in and joined his brother on the bed, laughing alongside him. The two brothers hadn't laughed together for a while, and it was nice to just unwind for a while. After a few minutes of laughter, the boys had calmed down enough to continue talking. Sam started, wiping tears out of his eyes.

"Oh my god, I had forgotten what laughing like that felt like," he said, still laughing a little. Dean did too. "His face was freaking priceless; just the right combination of confused and worried." Sam laughed some more at this, but then his grin faded a little. "What do you think freaked him out so much about that cambion thing?" Dean stopped mid-laugh, the smile sliding off his face like water. "I got nothing," he said gruffly, a troubled look entering his eyes. "Whatever it was, it was enough to scare him pretty damn bad..." Suddenly his head snapped up, the troubled look being replaced by a gleam of steely reserve. "Well, if Cas can't help us, I think I know someone who will." Sam looked at his brother, his mouth a thin line of determination. "You mean...?"

Dean put a wry half-smile on his face. "Get the chalk and matches, Sammy. We got ourselves a date with the King of Hell."

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On the other end of the world, Crowley leaned back on his beach chair, smiling slightly at the feeling of the sand under his feet. He had exchanged his normal suit of Italian suit for much more casual attire: comfortable khaki shorts, a straw hat and an oversized Hawaiian shirt. Granted, it wasn't how he normally dressed; he could only imagine how some of his subjects might react if they saw their ruler clothed like a human beach bum. _Screw them, I've earned this,_ he thought to himself, a feeling of pride and satisfaction spreading throughout his body (although maybe that was the piña colada). _Being the ruler of all things demonic can become quite taxing. I deserve this vacation. _

Taking a long sip of his fruity drink, Crowley listened to the sounds of the beach around him: the crashing of the waves, the high screeching of the gulls, the screaming of the islanders dying around him. He couldn't quite remember what the name of this charming little Polynesian island was; he was sure it was something unpronounceable anyway. But as soon as he heard that the two inhabiting tribes were in the midst of a rather gory civil war (on the BEACH, no less!) he decided that he deserved a quick break from ruling Hell and made it to the battle just before it had started, arriving in time to see a rather large islander become impaled by a crude spear. Since then, Crowley had quite enjoyed himself; there were few things that amused him more than humanity's attitude towards violence. Sure, every "civilized" person in the world claimed that they strove toward peace and tranquility, but whenever there was conflict they were quick enough to reach for their guns- or as it were, their tomahawks.

Lacing his fingers behind his head, Crowley closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose, inhaling the scent of his surroundings. _Ah, now this is true comfort,_ he thought. _Nothing refreshes a man like the bracing smell of sea salt and entrails. I've needed this for a while. _He continued to breath, slowly unwinding amongst the screams of the mortally wounded- until they suddenly vanished, replaced with quiet snickers. Opening his dark eyes, Crowley took in his surroundings and groaned to himself. _Every blasted time I start to relax, these two manage to muck it up with some type of crisis or another. Now what the hell do they want?!_ Fixing a glare on the two men in front of him, Crowley spoke.

"This had better be important."

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Dean looked at the tropically clothed demon in front of him, one eyebrow arched above the other as he attempted- and failed- to hold back a snicker. "Must have been a wrong turn at Albuquerque, right Sammy?" Crowley rolled his eyes at Dean's mediocre joke. "Oh, do shut up, squirrel, I'm not quite in the mood for your poor attempts at humor. I was in the middle of something, and unless this is quite urgent-"

Sam couldn't keep the laughter out of his voice. "What exactly were you in the middle of, Crowley? An episode of Lost? Nice hat, by the way." Dean laughed out loud at this, causing Crowley's death glare to be transferred to Sam. "Moose, you have no room to talk. Your jokes are terrible enough to make me long for those of your brother. Now, I demand to know what it is exactly that you want from little old me, or my straw hat and I will go back from whence we came without cleaning up whatever mess you two have made for yourselves." Crowley noted with satisfaction that these words were enough to make the two quit their insufferable laughter. Dean stepped forward, the ghost of a smile still evident on his face despite Crowley's threat.

"Actually, we didn't make a mess this time. Apparently this time, we are the clean up. Thing is, we need a little more information about what it is we are dealing with, and who better to help us than the King of Hell himself?" Crowley's eyes bulged a little at Dean's flippant remark. Growling slightly, he responded.

"Contrary to your opinion, squirrel, I am not one of my minions that you can summon whenever you need answers but don't feel like reading those dusty old archives of yours. I am the King of Hell, with thousands of bloodthirsty demons at my command; you would do well to not refer to me LIKE A DAMN WIKIPEDIA ARTICLE!" By the end of the sentence, he was roaring at the two boys. Dean was slightly taken aback; who knew that someone in an oversized red shirt with pineapples on it could be so intimidating? Satisfied that the Winchesters were sufficiently cowed by his outburst, Crowley allowed himself a small sneer. "Now, if that was all you lummoxes wanted, I was in the middle of a delightfully gory and primitive civil war. Good luck with whatever problem you thought you needed me for." With a wave of his hand, Crowley closed his eyes and inhaled, expecting once again to smell the sweet aroma of saltwater and bloodshed. When all that met his nostrils was the smell of mildew and old paper, he groaned to himself. "Devil's trap?" he asked without opening his eyes.

God, he could _hear _the smirk in the moose's voice. "Yep." Crowley let out a sigh and opened his eyes. Looking briefly at each of the boys, he spoke in a resigned voice. "I'm not going to get back to my civil war unless I help you, am I?" This time Dean answered; dear Lord, his smirk was more infuriating than his brothers. "Nope." How he would love to wipe that smug little grin off of the squirrel's skull...

His upper lip curling, the King of Hell spoke in a clipped tone. "Well, this is hardly business attire." He clapped twice and his "beach bum" outfit was instantly replaced with his normal ensemble: a fine Italian black silk suit over a blood red shirt and black tie. Smoothing his lapels, he grinned; not a friendly kind of grin, but almost predatory. He did love his suits. Clearing his throat, Crowley spoke. "Now that I am dressed properly, do tell me, what is so drastically important that it required your kidnapping of me?"

Dean matched Crowley's grin, baring his teeth in a savage smile at the demon. "Ever heard of a cambion, Crowley?" He had expected him to react similarly to Cas; to be honest, Dean was hoping to see both shock and fear in the unflappable demon's eyes. He was pretty surprised, then, when Crowley threw back his head and howled with laughter. Dean looked at his brother, and saw the same response reflected there: neither of them had any idea what the hell was happening. Crowley managed to calm down enough to look both boys in the eyes. "Oh, lord, that is perfect! What have you two gotten yourselves into this time?"

Sam attempted to take control of the situation. Striding up to the edge of the trap, he spoke boldly. "So you know what it is?" Crowley didn't seem at all intimidated; instead, his black eyes glittered dangerously with mirth. It was almost more unsettling than when he shouted. Chuckling to himself, Crowley answered. "Oh, yes," he laughed, his voice like oiled silk. "And I also know that you two are in way, way over your head."

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(A/N) Aaaaaanndd end Chapter Three! I hope that I was able to capture Crowley well; his relationship dynamic with the Winchesters, and humans in general, is what makes him one of my favorite characters. Add his sense of sarcasm and malignancy, and hot damn, you got yourself a character! Unfortunately it also makes him difficult to write for. How did I do?

R&R

-Nexus


	4. I

Hey, guys, Nexus here. I'm just going to apologize in advance for this, because I know that this would annoy the shit out of me. What I am posting right now is not exactly a real chapter, it's more like a distress call. Truth is, the reason that I haven't posted anything lately is that my life has kind of been going to shit. Long story short, I got betrayed by my best friend and my heart broken by the girl that I love. I know that it is stupid and selfish, but lately I haven't really had the motivation or desire or any reason, really to write. I'll be honest, you guys, I am starting to get really depressed. I try not to show it IRL, but it's getting to me no matter how much I pretend that it isn't.

But I digress.

Guys, I feel like I am dying inside right now and I desperately need support. I know that it probably seems like I'm being selfish and needy, but it's getting really bad. All I'm asking is that someone sends me a PM or a review or something; anything really. Just something to help me push on, you know? I just... whatever.

I'll try to post the next chapter as soon as I can get the words out on paper (metaphorically speaking). Til then, thanks for bearing with me. It means a lot to me.

~Nexus


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